


the cowardly light of the world to come

by robinsegg



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, its just like... two dudes dancing around what they really want to say, spoilers for episode 8, tfw your knight is devoted to you and not the crown, two old men dealing with the implications of devotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinsegg/pseuds/robinsegg
Summary: Amethar was so tired, and so sad. He was on a ghost ship populated by a skeleton crew and the echoes of people he’d never see again. The only thing still alive was Theobald, despite himself, despite all the shit he pulled.
Relationships: Theobald Gumbar & Amethar Rocks, Theobald Gumbar/Amethar Rocks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	the cowardly light of the world to come

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Amethar and Theo is like my favorite dynamic in the world somehow and I have a lot of feelings about the fact that Theo still only calls Amethar by my lord or my king and how Amethar never wanted to actually be king and he feels like he's doomed Candia as king. So yeah. Again, spoilers for episode 8!!

“My king,” Theo began. 

It was nighttime on a ship they stole. Annabel Cheddar was steering the dead traitor Stilton Curdeau’s bleu cheese vessel through the night with a forthrightness and determination that reminded Amethar so clearly of Tarthur, it hurt him to think about it. She’s the spitting image of her father and it just made him think of all the ghosts he couldn’t help but see walking around him.

Amethar groaned quietly, trying not to wake Jet or Ruby, curled around each other in his arms. “Theobald, you know I’m not anyone’s king anymore.” Liam snuffled quietly, arms locked around Theo’s forearm in a grip that looked painful- would be painful for anyone that wasn’t him. Jet and Ruby’s breathing was even, steady, matched each other. Sleeping, they looked like the children they always denied themselves to be. Amethar knew how young they were-- how little they understood.

Silence. Amethar turned over to Theo, who had never been quiet when he had something to say. Looking up at the ceiling, he said, “You- are my king.”

That quiet voice and gentle, clear devotion made him angry, so inexplicably angry. “I don’t want to be,” he whispered. “You hear me Theobald? Don’t wanna be your king or your lord or whatever fuckin’ else.” Silence again. It was hard to gauge how much Theo actually understood from his rushed hissing, but the anger came across the cabin clearly. Amethar looked over to him again, watched Theo bob his head up and down slowly, like he was doing it for himself, not as a response to what he said.

Theo finally took a deep breath, going quiet for a moment. He started to raise his arm, probably to steady the hammock he was in, before remembering Liam was wrapped around it, dropping it halfway through. “Yes, my-- Amethar. Yes, Amethar.” He sounded sad, but mostly like he was-- willing to do whatever he wanted. So long as it was Amethar telling him to. And he didn’t know to respond, distressed not at the revelation (which had never truly been a revelation) but at the enormity of what that meant, which he was just beginning to realize. Because that had been, he thought, the first time Theo had used his name, not his title.

That scared him, in a way he didn’t want to confront, and so he quietly turned back over in his hammock, pretending not to hear the quiet sigh Theo let out.

In the morning, Amethar watched the others stream out of the cabin, Jet and Ruby rushing to find Primsy, Liam dragging his feet behind them. Cumulus hadn’t come in last night-- Amethar assumed he was still watching the sea. He didn’t seem like a guy who-- slept. Theo sat atop a chest assembling his plate as the ship rolled up and down, the early dawn hours making him fumble the clasps. He stayed standing, looking outside the porthole at the milky deep and the sunrise staining it a warm, pulsing orange.

“Do you ever-- miss them?” Amethar asked, still not looking back. He could imagine the face Theobald was pulling, nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed not in suspicion but in thought.

Theobald stopped and began. “Miss- who, my--?” 

“Tarthur. Gustavo. Laz.” Amethar interrupted, recited like he was reading off a list.

Turning around, he watched Theo deflate, only halfway through assembling his armor. “Everyday I think about them,” he said, looking down at his hands.

“We should be over it,” he said. He laughed, suddenly, startling Theo, who had tilted his head in some approximation, or bastardization, of prayer. “We’re so _old,_ Theobald. We’ve been doing this for twenty years and we’re still shit at politics. They were all so much better at it than us.”

Theo let out an unhappy laugh in return. “I’m very lucky to still be here.”

Amethar didn’t respond to that. He just looked at Theo, and he knew it was probably making him fidget, but he couldn’t help it. Yesterday had seen Theobald near-death so many times, and constantly defying good reason or godly wrath, as was his way, but it made him think. About the oar held out to him and how he’d intercepted Scravoya and all the moments he’d kept him alive by diving in front of a sword for him. “Beside me,” he finally said.

Theo looked confused at the non-sequitur, but nodded nonetheless. “Of course, Amethar.” 

He stepped closer. Amethar was so tired, and so sad. He was on a ghost ship populated by a skeleton crew and the echoes of people he’d never see again. The only thing still alive was Theobald, despite himself, despite all the shit he pulled. He could remember the battles they’d fought together, nearby each other, glimpses caught of his sister in the muck and her sworn protector, always obedient to her but not yet so subservient to him, not yet granted the opportunity to be the self-sacrificing knight he had proven himself to be time and time again.

Twenty odd years he’d worked with Theo and glimpsed him changing out of the battleworn warrior into something else-- something more befitting a man growing old. He didn’t see that warrior anymore, but he didn’t see the old man, either. Something different. Something new he was given by Theo, soft as the way he said his name.

Overhead the heavy footsteps of someone running sounded in the cabin, probably Jet dashing to Primsy’s cabin to watch over her. The call of briegulls came clear through, and light was quickly beginning to stream in. The world was waking up, and Amethar didn’t know what it was ready for. He didn’t know what he was ready for.

“We’ll have to deal with those marauders who escaped. They’ve put the Duchess and Captain Cheddar in danger, and we might need to harbor them at Castle Manylicks,” Theo said, looking out the porthole. “If those marauders managed to captain a ship in the middle of a storm by themselves, of course.” 

“Theobald, you know we don’t have to have a war council right now. We don’t even know how Joren’s gonna feel about all,” he motioned with his hands, “this.” Amethar rested his head against the wall, eyes closed. His sisters would’ve known what to do. They would’ve been prepared. They wouldn’t have gotten into this mess in the first place.

“What’s keeping you here? I’m not king anymore. I put everyone I love in danger ‘cause I was real stupid twenty years ago. And I couldn’t even save a rabbit.” He tilted his head over to look at Theo, whose eyes were already trained on him. “What do you even want?”

He smiled crookedly. “I’m a fugitive too, you know. Couldn’t leave if I wanted to-- and I don’t,” he added at the look on Amethar’s face. “I serve the House of Rocks, not the crown. And I want to see you alive.” That answer shouldn’t have surprised him, he thought. It didn’t, not really. But it was so-- matter of fact. The blankness of it, the honesty there. Like he’d never attempted to hide his loyalties. Amethar knew he never had.

“You’re supposed to serve the crown,” he said. They were dancing around the question, or maybe the answer. They were dancing around something, he knew. It made him antsy.

Theo nodded. The ship bobbed. “Yes. I know I am.”

“You’re in for the long haul, then.” Theo nodded again. “You don’t have to be.” This time, Amethar got a flat look, which he laughed at.

“Why ask now, Amethar? You’ve never questioned it before.” And Theo was right, he supposed. He hadn’t ever questioned it before. But it hadn’t ever mattered before, not really. The war was-- different. Theo was Lazuli’s more than his, and after the war it was. Safe. And now it wasn’t. And all Theo had hitched his wagon to was Amethar, was his family. Jet and Ruby and Liam, and Cumulus, too. And maybe Lapin, before everything went wrong.

Amethar put his hand on Theo’s neck, and watched him go still. He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe to see that devotion physically, to watch him react to the touch of his traitor king. “You’re-- a good man, Theobald. Better than I deserve.”

“Amethar,” he began, and then stopped. “Not at all.” He could hear heavy footsteps crashing down the stairs, and the both of them straightened up.

“You should finish putting on your armor,” he said. Theo smiled crookedly again, and Amethar didn’t look back as he strode out of the room, into the uncertain light of day.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me @swordatsunset on twitter or @repressionattic on tumblr :-0


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